Fragments that Pierce the Veil
by Cat in Disguise
Summary: It should have been expected. It should have been obvious that Abbas would betray them. He has gone against everything they stand for by stealing the Apple. He must be made to pay. How, I do not yet know. Like the lying dog he is, he needs to be put down. He must not be allowed an easy death.


My attempt at writing a story from Altair's perspective. slight AU in which Altair has supernatural powers. Contains gore and slight OOC on everyone's part. Rated for gore and just because.

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><p>Blood dripped steadily from the tip of my newly honed rapier, at least a dozen men lying dead at my feet. But my attention lay elsewhere. My brown-gold irises glared up at the man atop the hill, the man I used to call brother, the man who used to be my best friend. But now, he . . .<p>

"Abbas!" I screamed at him, out of both rage and need, for he would not have heard me otherwise. Everything honorable about the man no longer existed, all of it consumed by arrogance and the power of the artifact clutched in his hand. Because of the power he thought he received from the Apple, he believed himself a god, elevated above the rest of humanity. Those of the Brotherhood I had sent to stand against him had not reported back at all. Fearing the worst, I had come here to inquire about their progress. But when I did arrive, Abbas and a band of what must have been his personal guards ambushed me, almost as if they expected me. The guards were quite skilled, and defeating them took more effort than I would have expected. Maybe he had trained them himself?

My former Brother's eyes swept the hillside around him, taking in the bodies scattered all over the grass. He must have known that no one else would come forward to protect him. I couldn't sense any other guards in the area. And yet, Abbas showed no fear or hesitation as he walked towards me.

"I knew you would come, Altair. All those months following the old man's orders have made you weak. It would benefit you more if you went back to how you were." Rage boiled in my blood at his words. How dare he disregard his comrades-in-arms like common pieces of filth? Did none of the Brotherhood's teachings matter to him?!

"How did you know?" He owed me that, at the very least. How had he known I would come after them, instead of sending someone just as capable? Perhaps someone else had abandoned the ways of the Creed and fed Abbas critical information. But he did not confirm this suspicion. Instead, he began to laugh, a crazed, triumphant sound that echoed into the surrounding mountains.

"Isn't it obvious, Mentor?" Acid dripped from his words as he uttered my new title. "The very men who you sent to kill me told me! They told me you would come if they did not return!" My head began to spin as he spoke. No, it's impossible; I tried to reassure myself. Why would they have any reason to turn against me? Unless . . .

"Where are they? What have you done to them?" Panic ripped at my insides, every fiber of my being shrieking, begging it not to be true. Surely, it couldn't be . . ! Abbas's laughter split my hopefulness down the center.

"Obviously, I rewarded them for bringing me such valuable information! I made them my own private soldiers that I gave the unique privilege of being able to fight you!" My golden orbs widened as the last sentence unraveled in my mind. They were giver the privilege of fighting me? But that would mean . . . that the people I cut down just now . . . I rushed back to the guards, kneeling and ripping off one of the helmets. Underneath the mask the face of his comrade stared blankly into the cloudless sky. I checked the rest of them. Each discarded mask revealed the same horrifying truth.

Heat poured into my bloodstream, mind ablaze with thoughts of grief, livid fury, and revenge. Even now, as he witnessed the disturbing scene before him, Abbas smiled. He _smiled, _because he felt _proud _of what he had done. How dare he. How _dare he. _

The air around me began to ripple, more pronounced and hypnotic than those seen in the heat of summer. Around me, the grass bent away, strands of hay scattered to the wind, and even the horses in the area began to strain against their reins.

Of course, Abbas noticed none of this. Instead, he walked calmly towards me, Apple held aloft. In a haze of red bloodlust, I registered his approach and growled warningly. A stabbing ache had begun at the base of my skull, but was steadily getting worse.

"You . . ." I could barely think through the pain building behind my eyes, but he could not go free, not after this -!

"You betrayed us!" My vocal chords trembled at the screaming roar my voice had become. Never in my life had I ever yelled, not at anyone. But this man . . . this man drove me to the very edge of sanity.

As the last word left my lips, the windows of the surrounding buildings shattered, splinters of glass falling everywhere. However, I did notice that the majority of them found their way into Abbas's flesh, and that none of them came in contact with me. But . . . I stood closer to the windows than he did. How could that be?

A scream of agony pierced the air, and I looked up to see Abbas writhing on the grass, clutching at the gaping hole in his right forearm. If I looked close enough at the wound, I could see the glass had cut clean enough through the shin to reveal the bone underneath. Taking care to wrap the butchered flesh in cloth first, Abbas glared at me, eyes full of hatred.

"H-how . . . did you . . ?" He stepped forwards, swaying from loss of blood, but still wanting to finish me off. And this time, I did see what happened. Clear as day, I saw the glass rear from the ground and reform itself into a deadly lance, of which every single shard directed itself directly at Abbas's heart.

The tinkling of the shards as they combined drew the half-delirious man's attention away from me, for he thought it had to be an ambush, that I didn't have enough honor to stand against him and retrieve my men alone. These thoughts made me bristle, a low, rumbling growl leaving my throat. And then, just as Abbas had fully turned to face the unusual sight, the glass struck.

Multiple fragments buried themselves into every major artery and muscle connection in his body. Several sliced the flesh enough to break the skin, but then circled back around and plunged into his back. The remaining pieces drove themselves deep into any exposed flesh they could find: his face, wounded arm, neck, and fingers. One fragment managed to gouge out his left eye, with as much precision a doctor would use with a scalpel. Tendrils of muscle and blood veins hung off the orb.

After all other fragments had ceased their assault, Abbas staggered, his remaining eye glazed over with pain. One final fragment, much larger than the others, hovered in front of him, its point trained on his stomach. And then, it struck, driving deep into flesh, so much so that it sliced clean through his body. Slowly, oh so slowly, it began to work its way out of the wound, but did so by cutting through his side. It finally broke free, Abbas's intestines spilling onto the dirt. The loss of blood and physical injuries finally crashed down on him, and he fell backward. All the glass in his back buried itself deeper, and his blood pooled and around him, staining the earth crimson.

For several long moments which I would later remember as eons, I stared blankly at the corpse before me. Not even right in front of me, struck down by my blade, but instead carved to pieces by . . . whatever I had done.

Confused, frightened, grief-stricken, and horrified, I did something I had not done in a long, long time, not since my first kill all those years ago.

I ran.


End file.
